I seem to confess a lot in this space. I’ve confessed my FOME, my fear of falling off mountains, and my disdain for running in herds. Today, I have yet another confession to make: I am a slob. For as long as I can remember, I have been a slob. Open any cabinet, closet or drawer and you will quickly see evidence of my pigpen ways. This is important context, I promise.
Because I am a slob, I frequently have to dig through my front closet in search of random shoes. My front closet has zero organizational order and has become a collection space for everything from my recycling to my cleaning supplies to my coats and my shoes. It is total and complete chaos in there. I would include a picture but it fills me with too much shame. Again, I swear this is important context.
As a result of the careless abandon with which I throw everything into this closet, I can rarely find and extract a matching pair of shoes without pulling almost everything out of my closet. Trust me, I’m getting to my point.
In the course of trying to find a “missing” (i.e. hopelessly buried) second shoe recently, I realized that I have not one, not two, not three or even four, but five pairs of running shoes. At home. In my front closet. I have another two pairs of running shoes at work in a drawer next to my desk. I have two pairs of trail shoes on my patio. I have one pair of hiking boots in my flex room.
That’s 10 pairs of running or trail shoes. At one time.
I’m sure for actual distance runners and competitive types that’s actually normal. But here’s the thing, I am not a competitive runner or a real distance runner. And, even worse, of the 10 pairs of shoes that are currently in my possession, I wear exactly 4 on the regular. That means I’m holding on to 6 pairs of shoes for no reason except that I keep thinking “maybe one day I’ll need them.”
Let’s explore why this is ridiculous:
I have moved these shoes from city to city over the years, unwilling to part with them. I do not know why. Is it laziness? Is it slovenly ways? Is it hoarding? Or, perhaps, is there an emotional attachment that exists just beneath my level of consciousness? Those shoes have covered a lot of miles and terrain. They’ve seen me in my best moments and my worst moments. They’ve stuck with me as I hobbled in injury. They’ve carried me across finish lines.
So maybe one day I’ll let go of my hoarding ways and finally kick them to the curb. But for today, I think I’ll hang on to them a little bit longer. You never know when a hole-riddled-smelly-one-shoelaced sneaker might be just what I need…